<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Secret Injury by Merixcil</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360428">Secret Injury</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil'>Merixcil</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2019 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>House M.D.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chronic Pain, Drug Abuse, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2019-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2019-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 09:09:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Wilson discuss the state of pain management in America</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greg House &amp; James Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2019 [24]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838356</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Secret Injury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What?” </p><p>Wilson was staring at him, with that particular brand of knowing concern that made him so insufferable and so good at his job telling kids they have less than a year to live. This, Greg remembered, was why they didn’t hang out in his office any more. Wilson always found a way to make it about anything but himself and not in a fun way. In a borderline self righteous except not really so you can never quite call him out for it way. </p><p>Wilson nodded towards the Spider-Man figurine on the desk, in which Greg kept a very secret stash of extra Vicodin in case of emergency. “You’ve been taking a lot of those the past couple of days.”</p><p>“A lot of what, web shooters to the face?” Greg snorted. “I hate to break it to you but whiny college kids in spandex aren’t really my thing.”</p><p>“The pills.” Wilson clarified, but the corners of his mouth tightened slightly the way they always did when he felt that the conversation was trying to steer itself in an unsavoury direction. </p><p>Ok. Sure. Greg could play that game. “You know, the thing about pain, is that it’s not consistent. Some days are good, some days are bad. Some days I can’t get out of bed-”</p><p>“I think that’s called a come down.” Wilson interjected.</p><p>“For someone who sees so much of it, you really don’t understand chronic pain.”</p><p>“I understand what blowing the lid off your prescription means. How many doctors do you have feeding your addic- your habit, just now?” Wilson coughed, recovering from the faux par. If he wants to call it an addiction, he better have a damn good reason to. </p><p>Before Greg could get a good word in edge-ways, his leg gave a mighty throb, starting from his ankle and working upwards till it joined with the persistent ache in his thigh. He hissed, reaching out to soothe the area with as much pressure as he could manage, knowing full well that the pressure was just a distraction from what was really going on. </p><p>Truth be told, he was probably pushing his limit for pain meds that morning. Why did Wilson always have to be right?</p><p>Frowning, Wilson lurched forward and was behind Greg’s desk in a second. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“What’s wrong.” Greg told him, around a mouthful of clenched teeth. “Is that I’m in pain. And I’m taking meds for it and it’s not working.”</p><p>“That’s not good.” Wilson tutted, trying to bat Greg’s hand away to get a feel of the leg himself, as if an oncologist would know the first thing about this. “You should see someone about it.”</p><p>“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. I don’t know if you noticed, but doctors have gotten awfully stingy about actually prescribing any pain medication that works.”</p><p>“There’s an opioid epidemic.” Wilson pouted slightly, his eyes still fixed on Greg’s leg. “We can’t go handing them out like candy.”</p><p>“Evidently we can’t go handing them out at all.”</p><p>“What did you do to it, anyway?” Wilson asked, brushing aside all concerns with the state of modern medicine. "This has gotta be a secondary injury. It doesn't normally give you this much trouble."</p><p>Greg shrugged. “None of your business. It’s just a twisted ankle, my messed up nerves read it as something stronger, though.”</p><p>It was clear from the furrow of his brow that Wilson didn’t buy this, but the last thing Greg needed was Captain Empathy using his great misery ray on him. He shook his head slightly, standing up and setting his hands on his hips like he always did when he was trying to look powerful and in control. It made him look like a child about to bite off more than it could chew. “I’m gonna get you in to see Doctor Matthy. She’ll know what to do.”</p><p>Doctor Matthy hated Greg with a passion and would absolutely refuse to do anything useful. But what the hell, if it got Wilson out of his office for five minutes, Greg could run with it. “Sure. Go ahead. Why not.”</p><p>Sarcasm not detected. Wilson left the room in a flash of his white coat, leaving Greg to contemplate overshooting his dosage for the day in peace. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'whumptober' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>